Nomad Writer

What’s the danger?
You asked me
In a voice so pure
And guileless
It ribboned through my chest
And knotted tight
‘Round my arteries
‘Til it bruised with envy
For your eyes
That had never seen
The collapse of stars
Burning at our feet;
For your heart
That had not been
Pierced through
By what so many of us
Know too intimately:
The pain that cloaks itself
Within the sweet and delicate
Brush of the sun
Rending our souls
With its razor-sharp edge
And for a moment
Bleeding through
With shameful spite
I wished you would feel
This agony too—
Corrupted like the rest of us
Only trying to survive